


The Day of Night

by Space_Conspiracy



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akechi goes to Silent Hill and has a Bad Time, Blood and Injury, Gen, Gore, Silent Hill level gore and violence, Tags to be updated as we go, liberal liberties taken with canon, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:47:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26693194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Space_Conspiracy/pseuds/Space_Conspiracy
Summary: 'Goro did not believe in the afterlife, but if he did, he knew he’d be going straight to hell.'---After being shot in the engine room, Goro Akechi wakes on the train to Silent Hill and must confront his demons before they kill him first.---
Comments: 16
Kudos: 21





	1. I

Despite everything, Goro Acheki did not believe in the afterlife.

When you make a living out of death, its not hard to. You bring the human life down to a science, a series of electrical impulses operating a meat machine, on and then off. You don’t wonder what happens to a computer when it stops working, why should you do the same to humans?

Sure, he’d read up on the literature. Heaven, Hell, Purgatory. Pearly Gates and choirs of angels, or burning depths and eternal torment. None of it sounded too appealing in the long run, so he really just didn’t bother with it.

His death was a long way away after all, so until then, the afterlife did not matter.

Despite everything, Goro had hoped he’d live a long life.

He cursed under his breath, his ragged breathing amplified in his helmet, a burning fatigue in his limbs. How could a pathetic, revenge driven fool like him live a long life? Shido died and then what? He’d get to waltz his merry way out of the conspiracy like he wasn’t the prime suspect among those who knew best? _Idiot_. So many things he should have seen coming, accounted for.

He could hear the Thieves from behind the barrier, shouts and crying, and Akira’s voice barely audible, promising him. With effort, Goro forced himself to stand tall and point his gun at the cognitive double.

“Bastard,” he snarled through gritted teeth. His hand was shaking.

The double simply smirked, and despite his wounds, straightened and aimed calmly. His hand was perfectly still.

Goro did not believe in the afterlife, but if he did, he knew he’d be going straight to hell.

The train car rattled and the sudden motion jerked Goro awake. His head ached, he felt like he was going to throw up. He lowered his head into his hands and took a steadying breath. The headache remained, but the few moments he took at least allowed him time to clear his head.

The train car was older and dingier than any he’d ever seen, there seemed to be an ingrained layer of grime on every surface. Any posters that the train used to have had long since rotted away, the air smelled of damp and mildew. As far he could tell, he was the only one there.

Goro looked at his hands, gloved in their usual black leather rather than clawed gauntlets. He frowned, brought a hand to his chin as he thought, the train car clattering on undisturbed.

The last thing he remembered was the engine room, the stand off with his cognitive double, both of them squeezing the trigger at the same time. The bang and then…

Goro inhaled sharply.

He wasn’t going to dwell on it; somehow he’d managed to survive. Aside from the headache, he didn’t seem to have any injuries and everything seemed in working order. He flexed his fingers and toes, stood from his seat. His briefcase was sitting neatly on the chair next to his, he left it be for the time being. Carefully he made his way down the length of the carriage. The scenery outside the windows was dark, the train seemed to be going through a tunnel, and the overhead lights were dim and weak, flickering occasionally. Reaching the door to the next car, he tugged slightly at the handle but it didn’t move. That was fine, the window simply showed another car just as dirty and grimy as the one he was in, with no one in sight. The lights flickered and Goro tensed, but nothing changed. He exhaled slowly, his breath overwhelmingly loud in the confined space. He reached for Loki, for Robin Hood, but only felt them settled in his mind, unable to be called. This wasn’t the Metaverse, and that confirmed his theory, but that couldn’t stop the pervading sense of _wrongness_ the air possessed. The train car rattled on, and Goro returned to his seat.

Goro’s mind was jumping in a hundred different directions trying to figure out where he was and how he’d gotten there, and he found himself reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. There was no reception, which did not surprise him, so attempting to browse the internet for more information was out of the question. He poked the MetaNav several times but it wouldn’t open, crashing every time he tried. Unsure of what to do now, he found himself idly scrolling through old messages, the Phantom Thieves group chat that hadn’t updated since November (likely one that had been created specifically for him), old messages from Sae and the conversations he had with Akira. He found himself lingering there the longest, most of the messages were requests to hang out with simple responses from Akira, but sometimes Goro had received memes and photos from the other boy, and one time a lengthy text conversation following up on a conversation they’d had in person. He remembered that conversation vividly, being torn between wanting to go to bed, and yet also wanting to continue what had eventually turned into playful banter with the other boy. Even now, Akira was infuriatingly fascinating.

He shoved the phone back in his pocket and turned the briefcase next to him. With some hesitation, he fiddled with the latches and opened the case. The interior was sparse, only a few pieces of paper, a lone pen he knew was dry and a crumpled food wrapper. Hooking his fingers into the sides, he slid the false bottom out of the case and set it on his lap.

Nestled perfectly in the foam interior was a gun. Goro regarded it coolly, pursing his lips at the sight. He took the damned thing with him everywhere, a just in case. Just in case Shido needed someone taken care of, just in case he needed to kill the Phantom Thieves. Just in case he needed to kill Akira.

_“Your next stop is: Silent Hill. I repeat: your next stop is Silent Hill. Please mind the gap.”_

The train’s intercom shook him from his thoughts, the brakes making harsh squealing noises. The endless darkness outside the train did not abate.

_Silent Hill?_

Goro had no idea where Silent Hill was, but at least he’d be off the train, hopefully he’d be able to figure it out from there. He regarded the gun once more, before taking it out and giving it a once over. Ten bullets in the gun, another full magazine that he slipped into his pocket. The silencer quickly screwed onto the barrel, and the gun slotted into the waistband of his pants under his coat. He quickly replaced the false bottom and snapped the lid closed. The train was clattering to a stop and peering out the window, Goro could see an equally grimy and dingy subway platform, devoid of people. His unease deepened.

Eventually, the train slowed, the doors opened. Goro waited but nothing happened, nothing from the intercom and if he could guess, it sounded like the train wasn’t idling while it waited for its next round of passengers. With nothing else to do, he exited, almost having to jump from the train car to the platform due to the unusually large gap. He turned at his position on the platform and regarded it.

“You weren’t kidding,” he said quietly.

It felt wrong to talk in this place, with no one around and no music playing over speakers, like he was disturbing some sacred silence. The platform was small and there was nothing of particular interest around, a few seats and a vending machine completely covered in grime, and a set of stairs leading up. With nowhere else to go, he began climbing.

The area outside the station was derelict and sparse, a combination of cracked concrete and dying weeds. The air was filled with a cold fog that settled deep in Goro’s lungs and made breathing slightly harder than usual and visibility poor with no more than 15 feet ahead of him visible. He couldn’t help but grip the briefcase handle tighter.

With no one around and no other meaningful indication of where to go next, Goro began walking out into the fog, following what seemed to be a worn dirt track. As he walked, he tried using the flashlight on his phone, but it doesn’t do anything to help with the fog, almost making it worse as the beam played over a seemingly solid wall of fog. He’s on edge, the crunching of his feet the only sound to be heard.

The path twists and winds slightly and he follows it for some time. The fog turned everything around him into dark, featureless shapes. It’s mostly trees, a sparse wooded area that drops away to reveal what appears to be a lake through thinning fog. Goro stops to consider this for some time, but it’s difficult to make out a way to the lake from where he is currently, so he continues.

He is no stranger to walking, prior to his brief stint with the Phantom Thieves he’d have to spend his afternoons walking through Mementos for what felt like hours to reach his targets. But this felt… different somehow. Mementos had its own oppressive atmosphere, with the overly loud crying and whimpering of shadows, the rattling of chains as the Reaper began its prowl, but there was a certain rhythm Goro could settle into when he was down there. In Mementos he was the watcher, the hunter on the prowl. Here… He couldn’t help but shiver.

The trees close in again, becoming thicker, and the semblances of humanity began to appear. First, a light pole shattered and rusted and then a rotting wooden fence marking the path. And then, the sign.

_Welcome to Silent Hill_.

The path winds past the sign, but Goro stopped momentarily to consider the only proper landmark he’s seen in some time. Grimy, rotten. Just like everything else around here. He pulled out his phone, still no bars. He growled in frustration, he wanted to hurl the damn thing off a cliff for all the good it was doing him. But then-

He just about dropped the phone, a quick flash but one tiny bar had appeared and disappeared. He spins on the spot somewhat stupidly, raises the phone above his head. Again! One single bar, struggling to keep its connection. Having had no plan other than “walk and see what happens” this set his mind racing. If Goro could get somewhere with a better signal, then he could figure out where the hell he was, then find a way out. Call for help even, although the thought churned his gut. Call for Ak-

No.

If the welcome sign was any indication, he would have to be close to the Silent Hill. Best case scenario, there were people he could talk to, worst case he’d be climbing to the tallest spot in the town for cell service. He slipped the phone back in his pocket, checked the positioning of the gun, and began walking.

If Goro thought the fog on the path was thick, he was wrong. Continuing further down the path only seems to make the fog draw closer, the dark shapes in the distance becoming even more indistinct if that’s even possible. He can barely see the trees from the path and once when he comes across a dark looming shape he actually has to step off the path to confirm it as a long abandoned building, some kind of wood shed. He returns to the path quickly, lest he lose it altogether.

The silence that has followed him this whole time, no wind or animals noises to any of this feel even slightly normal, is suddenly punctuated by a low drawn out howl that petered out into muffled coughing and whining noises. Goro tenses, his hand immediately jumping to the gun at his belt. It doesn’t sound like any animal he knows, nor any shadow either. Rather, it sounded more like a person in the midst of grief, someone crying. Goro is struck by a memory of being 15, new to killing and being forced by Shido to help deliver the bad news to a victim’s next of kin. The woman in front of him had made a similar noise while he’d stood there, unsure of how to maintain the airs of a Detective Prince while also desperately wanting to find a corner to throw up in.

He takes a steadying breath and removes the gun from its hiding spot, holding himself in such a way that his briefcase will hide the gun if he needs it to. He’s not entirely sure what to expect, but with everything feeling too wrong to be safe, he doesn’t want to take the chance.

The noises appeared to be coming from ahead of him, and as he begins walking cautiously forward, dark shapes come into focus. A wrought iron fence, an archway entangled with dead roses. And the neat rows of tombstones stretching into the distance.

The path led straight towards the cemetery, leaving Goro with little choice but to follow it. The crying has gotten closer, and as he walked further down the rows hoping to just leave this godforsaken place he sees a small huddled lump in front of one of the markers, shaking and rocking slightly with each pitiful noise. Goro hesitated, he doesn’t really want to disrupt someone clearly having a hard time coping (especially since it would mean useless pleasantries and platitudes that he wouldn’t even tell someone he _liked_ ), but he also didn’t quite want to be seen purposefully ignoring them. Carefully, he placed the gun back into its hiding spot, straightened his jacket and gloves and began striding purposefully. Unease had won out, whoever this person is will just have to cope with their grief alone, just like everyone else.

The crunching of his footsteps, loud and jarring in the silence startled the figure, the young girl tumbled out of her hunched position with an ‘ _oof’_ , crying momentarily forgotten. Goro stopped, just about cursed. It’s _Futaba._

The two stare at each other, Goro a figure of suppressed rage, his mouth set in a thin line, while Futaba rubbed at her red eyes and running nose. It takes Goro a moment to realize that its not quite Futaba, not the one he knows anyway. The girl in front of him is younger, no older than thirteen with a light smattering of freckles across her pale skin, blemished here and there by angry red marks. Her hair, he can see, is shorter but still that same vivid shade of orange, and her glasses are the same round lenses. She stood abruptly, still tiny as ever, her drooped posture making her seem smaller still.

“Who are you?” she asks, her voice still thick from her tears. “What do you want?”

Ah. He shifts his posture, relaxes his spine slightly, softens his features. Don’t scare away the only person he’s seen in ages, even if it’s the younger version of a gremlin partly responsible for his downfall.

“Goro Akechi,” he says pleasantly. “I’m just passing through, trying to get into town. Wouldn’t happen to have any cell service would you?”

The girl in front of him seemed to shrink even further and shook her head.

“I’m looking for my mama,” she says quietly. “I- my mother.”

Goro frowns just slightly. Wakaba Isshiki was dead, long since having thrown herself into traffic due to his meddling.

“Your mother-“ he starts, but Futaba suddenly tensed and let out a strangled cry. Her eyes were wide, fixated on a point behind his shoulder. She then collapsed, hands pressed firmly over ears, rocking gently and whimpering slightly, the very picture of someone having a panic attack.

Goro doesn’t know what to do. He’s long since stopped caring about other people and would normally use this as an opportunity to leave the situation. But Goro remembered the days following his mother’s suicide and how the slightest things had caused him to remember the creaking door and cold limbs, sending him into a panicked crying mess. He reached down towards the girl, intending to place a hand on her back, but she shrieked and scrambled away, disappearing into the fog.

Goro pursed his lips as he watched the retreating figure. His mind was clicking away, trying to slot the pieces into some sort of comprehensive image but the pieces he has are too out of place, the information doesn’t make any sense in the grander scheme of things. He reaches for Loki again; an attempt at comfort, but the Persona is the same as ever, locked away by the constraints of the real world. He looks down at the gravestone the girl was crouched in front of, and is almost unsurprised to see the name _Wakaba Isshiki_ inscribed in the stone in a looping font. Another piece that makes no sense.

Goro kept walking.


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It’s a good thing he is erring on the side of caution when he sees the streak of blood splattered on the street disappearing into the gloom."  
> \--  
> Goro arrives in Silent Hill and finds that things are more familiar than they should be

The fog continued to press in on him as the dirt path gave way to concrete and tarmac. The town of Silent Hill was just as decrepit and abandoned looking as the train station had been, except this time everything was just a little further away and hidden by grey nothingness. Goro’s sense of unease deepened somewhat, there was something about the abandoned town that reminded him too much of his childhood neighbourhood.

There was a simplistic map at the town’s entrance, partially torn down, but Goro quickly snapped a photo for later reference and traced the lines with a finger. As far as he could tell, he’d wandered into Sanders Street. He was still holding onto the faint hope of people and working telephone lines and found himself searching for areas people congregate, police stations, hospitals, schools. A hospital was a good bet he figured, emergency services were always maintained to the end in the event of a disaster, and were usually quite tall if he found he needed to use the roof for cell service. There were two as far as he could see based on the map, Brookhaven Hospital seemed to be much closer. He’d have to make a few turns down unfamiliar streets, but the photo on his phone should be sufficient enough to stop him getting lost.

The streets of Silent Hill are not as silent as he had expected them to be, there’s the soft whooshing of the winds through the streets and a faint hum that seems to fill his ears. Goro can feel a steady prickling on his skin, he’d long since learnt how to detect shadows while in Mementos and the sensation is similar. There are creatures in the darkness of the alleyways, shuffling out of sight as he cautiously makes his way through the streets, not quite leaping from shadow to shadow like the Phantom Thieves, but not quite walking down the middle of the streets like nothing was wrong.

It’s a good thing he is erring on the side of caution when he sees the streak of blood splattered on the street disappearing into the gloom. Goro pauses and takes a momentary step towards the building on his left, intending to keep his back protected. Even from a distance the streak appears fresh, and as he draws ever so closer he can begin to see a crumpled heap on the ground. Cautiously, he steps forward, left hand hovering awkwardly at the gun tucked into his pants.

The crumpled figure on the ground is mostly human, as far as he can tell, covered in a stained and bloody shroud belted around its body with straps. It doesn’t move even as he’s inches from legs positioned at awkward angles, covered in angry, weeping sores.

_His mother’s leg had been slung over the bathtub at an awkward angle when he’d found her, the skin pale and toes already turning black as the blood pooled. He could see angry welts and scars, black and blue bruises like butterflies climbing the calf and what little he could see of the thigh. He-_

No.

Goro gave the corpse a disgusted looked and squinted around him, looking for any signs of whatever had dragged the body. His skin prickled, he whipped around gun now in his hand, aimed with a steady hand into the mist. He turned once, twice, three times just to be certain. Nothing.

He growled and lowered the gun, but did not put it away. Taking a steadying breath, he quickly oriented himself, and began walking in the direction of the hospital.

The further into the town he walked, the worse the prickling became. Having now seen the body he’s more alert and the figures in the gloom seem to become more restless, as if his instinctual shift to Black Mask has upset some kind of balance. They shuffle in the darkness and the distance, and Goro began to see more and more blood on the streets. He moved carefully, silently, ears straining for the slightest sounds. When the steps of the hospital come into view, he allowed himself a small moment of relief.

Unsurprisingly, the hospital lobby is dark and empty, he’d had to just about kick the front door open to get inside. The grime persists even here, although Goro would hazard a guess at saying it was _slightly_ cleaner. There are a few plastic chairs bolted to the floor, a dead potted plant in the corner and an empty reception desk. The corners of hard surfaces, the desk, some of the chairs and the dark corners of the room are filled with thick swathes of spider webs. He could still sense the creatures outside, but the feeling has abated somewhat, so he allowed himself to relax slightly. To his left was a set of double doors leading deeper into the hospital.

“Hello?” he calls.

There is no answer, which Goro is not surprised about. He circled the reception desk, hoping for a clue forward. An ancient computer, covered in a film of dust, a few loose papers and notes. The lack of phone was disappointing, but altogether did not change his plans. He placed his suitcase on the table, his gun back into his belt and began searching drawers for anything of use. The drawers are mostly filled with paperwork, some patient files and calendars, but he finds a bottle of painkillers that he shoves into a pocket and a small evacuation plan map. The last drawer is locked.

Goro hummed quietly. He’s not like Akira, who carries dozens of lockpicks and other such thieving knick knacks, and a double check of the drawers reveals no key. The drawer likely contained nothing that important, but Goro couldn’t help but feel a little curious. Locked chests in Palaces had always contained the best gear after all.

Sitting in the dusty chair, he considered the map he had found in the drawer. Three floors counting the one he was already on, a set of stairs leading between each floor. Theoretically, the door to the roof would also be in that same stairwell.

He gave the desk another once over, but nothing else caught his attention. He stood, wiping the dust from his pants and made his way deeper into the hospital.

The rest of the hospital just as eerie as everywhere else he’d been, and Goro felt the prickling sensation that had persisted ever since he had enter the town increase. The small corridor beyond reception was dark and empty, too dark to feel comfortable. After some fiddling, Goro was able to set up the flashlight on his phone in his breast pocket, providing a bright beam that played across dust motes and even more swathes of cobwebs.

The stairway was not hard to find and did not require him to venture too far into the dark, something he was grateful for. He proceeded carefully up the stairs, gun firmly in hand, tense at each landing, but the stairs were silent and empty. It wasn’t long before he reached the roof, the windows boarded with thick planks on the outside. He jiggled the handle, the door was locked.

“ _Fuck,”_ he cursed.

He glanced around the small landing area, more cobwebs but nothing else. He gave the door an experimental kick; the doors shuddered but didn’t budge, the slam reverberating in the small space. A piece of paper drifted down, dislodged from its position lodged between the doors. Goro frowned and picked it up.

_Locked until further notice. Key is in my office. –K_

Fantastic.

Goro sat down on the top step and perused the evacuation map he’d picked up. It wasn’t very clear based on the map what rooms were what, the rooms were only labeled numerically, with a thick highlighter line running down each hall detailing the evacuation route. He considered the map, thinking carefully. A long hallway with rows of rooms were likely for patients, so he could disregard them in his search. That left the cluster of rooms down the end of each floor. He pursed his lips, he’d have to search each floor individually, something that could potentially turn into a frustrating and dangerous waste of time. Might as well get things started if he was ever going to get out of here. He stood, adjusted the grip on his gun and the phone in his pocket before descending the stairs.

The door to the second floor squeaked as Goro opened it slowly, the noise set setting his teeth on edge. Unlike the reception and stairwell, the hospital corridor was covered in a thick layer of grime, although the swathes of cobwebs were becoming normal by this point. The air smelled of mold and dust clogged at the back of his throat. The prickling on his skin had increased, so carefully and almost agonizingly slowly, he began creeping down the corridor, the only sound the slight scuff of his shoes on the linoleum.

The corridor was fairly long, longer than he was expecting, and it took him a moment to see the shape stumbling in the dark despite the light from his phone. Humanoid, its back was to him as it tottered and swayed at the end of the corridor, seemingly unaware of his presence.

_He was 15 and he’d never shot a gun in his life. The shadow in front of him seemed uncertain of itself, it would stumble back and forth, lurching abruptly in its directional changes like it couldn’t quite decide where it wanted to go. His hands were slick with sweat, but he focused his breathing and desperately tried to remember the two minute lecture he’d been given on gun use after it had been shoved in his hand. Goro raised the gun slowly, carefully aiming. The shadow suddenly turned, spotted him, and with a sudden burst of speed, lunged. He panicked, the bullet flew wide. He scrambled backwards, his mind was blank, he couldn’t think, he- The shadow jerked backwards suddenly, dissolving into smoke and ashes._

_Goro turned, panting heavily, his face flushed._

_“You’re ok sweetheart. You’ll get the next one.” The woman behind him, calm and collected as always, holstered the gun she was carrying and patted his shoulder gently._

Goro raised his gun steadily, stepping forward smoothly and precisely. He’d come a long way since he’d been first handed a gun and told to kill, long hours in Mementos and a far from reputable shooting range had done wonders for his nerves and his aim.

The figure suddenly turned and Goro recoiled slightly. Shadows had their own physical quirks, the strange tar-like forms and then their true forms beneath, always had an uncanny edge to them that made them distinctly non-human, but the figure, the _woman_ in front of him, didn’t quite have that cognitive overlay to convince him that she hadn’t once been human long ago. Pale skin streaked with bloody tears, her eyes bandaged to no doubt hide the ruin that remained. Her mouth gagged and covered with dirty rotten bandages that looped around and constricted her neck tight. A nurse once upon a time based on her uniform, although even that was caked with so much blood and dirt it was impossible to tell what colour it might have been originally. She limped forward slowly but with an unsettling determination, one foot was badly twisted and dragged behind her. Her hands, rigid and veiny, were bound tightly together and clasped in front her, Goro would have thought of in prayer if he hadn’t seen the scalpel grasped firmly in rictus fingers.

“What are you doing?” he half yelled. He kept the gun carefully trained on her.

The nurse gave a pitiful moan, and continued her advance, the scalpel now raised to attack.

“Hey!”

_He’d never physically stood in front of a person and held a gun to their head, but it seemed there was a first for everything. Vacant grey eyes, realization seeming to slowly trickle in as Goro gave a nasty sneer and-_

Goro fired and the nurse staggered backwards, the wound in her shoulder darkening the grimy cloth. He took a step backwards to give him a moment to aim again as the nurse twitched and made inhuman screeching noises. Goro fired again, his aim much better as the creature’s head exploded in a fountain of dark blood, dropping heavily to the ground. Goro waited, his gun trained on the body, but nothing stirred and he exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He stepped forward and kicked the body, his foot squishing slightly on contact, but nothing moved.

Goro lowered the gun, feeling the post adrenaline fatigue beginning to settle into his limbs. He took a steadying breath and carefully stepped over the body, a small part of his brain expected it to reach out and grab his ankle, but nothing stirred and he continued his careful way down the remainder of the hallway.

The hallway ended in three doors, one that would lead into a smaller room to his right, another hallway and series of rooms to his left and a larger open space in front of him. The lack of labels of the map made Goro want to start grinding his teeth, but he forced his frustrations to the side. The door to his right was probably storage at best judging by its size, the door in front possibly leading to some kind of communal rest area, which ultimately looped around to the corridor to his left. Disregarding the door to his right, he carefully tested the door to his left and, finding it unlocked, slowly opened it and stepped through.

Experience had told Goro that the world does not stop at one monster, and the very existence of the nurse as something completely inhuman meant there were probably more wandering the corridors. Goro proceeded slowly, ears straining for any untoward sound, but for now things were quiet.

Opposite the hall door was another door, a careful examination revealed a dark stairwell filled with shattered furniture and a semi collapsed ceiling. Closing the door as quietly as possible, Goro proceeded further down the hallway, ignoring a dark corridor to his left in favour of the door next to it, which held firm against his attempts to open it. Next to the locked room was an elevator, which opened with a surprisingly cheery ding when he called it. Goro flinched at the noise, but nothing stepped from the elevator and nothing rounded the corner to his right, so for now he was in the clear.

Stepping into the dark corridor, revealed several more doors. The door to his left was locked with a keypad, a nameplate for “Kaufmann” attached to the door. Goro huffed with irritation. A locked door that even Akira can’t pick, with this “Kaufmann” being about the only lead Goro has so far on the location of the roof key. He examined the keypad, dirty and dusty just like everything else, seemingly untouched in years if the layer of grime on the buttons is anything to go by. Goro thought back to the downstairs reception desk, but nothing had struck him as “door codes” when he’d sifted through papers and the computer hadn’t turned on when he’d examined it. He’d only been through a small portion of the hospital so far, and nobody remembers everything. Either he’d find someone’s reminder in another office or desk, or he’d find a more… destructive way of getting in. He was unwilling to waste what few bullets he had on this, but it was definitely an option. Goro turned from the door and began his search.

Goro proceeded carefully though the remainder of the second floor, opening doors slowly with his gun drawn. The remainder of doors down the small corridor revealed similarly abandoned rooms, but Goro found himself rifling through cupboards and abandoned lockers for clues and items. Several cupboards contained medical supplies he shoved into his briefcase, an abandoned lab coat contained a key he shoved in his pocket and the sink in the women’s locker room contained a box half filled with bullets Goro figured would probably suit his gun. The unexplored break room that allowed him to loop back around to the stairwell held two more monstrous nurses, who jerked and jittered about the room, making low moans and cries. They didn’t notice as when Goro poked his head through the door, so he left them be for the time being, backtracking the way he came.

Not trusting the elevator, he returned to the stairwell and continued to the third floor, the door thankfully unlocked. The corridor seemed empty, but so had the second floor’s; so Goro proceeded with caution, his ears strained. He’s about halfway down the corridor when he hears faint crying in one of the patient rooms. He pauses, tense. It doesn’t sound like the creatures he’s encountered so far, much more human and grief stricken. Goro thinks back to the young Futaba he’d encountered in the graveyard, searching for her mother and fearful of things he couldn’t see.

_“I think you and Futaba are the same.”_

_Goro looks up from the chessboard and considers the boy across from him. He’s disgustingly aware of Futaba’s past following her mother’s death and her run in with social services. It’s the kind of information that requires more digging than any of the other thieves had needed when researching their profiles, and it’s the kind of thing he doesn’t really want to admit to knowing. Especially since he’s the cause of her isolation in the first place._

_“Aside from an interest in Feathermen, I have to disagree.”_

_Akira fiddles with his hair as he tries to express what’s on his mind._

_“Not exactly,” he finally amends. “I just think your circumstances are very similar if you look at it basically.”_

_“How so?”_

_Akira looks a little irritated that Goro is unwilling to indulge this train of thought. He continues to fidget and Goro allows him the time to arrange whatever he’s thinking into something he can express. Now that Goro has spent these little moments with Akira, he’s starting to pick up on the other boy’s quirks and mannerisms. Akira picks his words carefully, measuring them against the responses of the people around him, always aiming to mediate and please, even as confident and self-assured Joker. Big thoughts being condensed into small words. Akira settles for what seems like a list of events, ticking them off on his fingers as he goes._

_“No father to speak of, single mother struggling with a child. A suicide when caring for said child becomes too much. Passed around from home to home, abused and let down by a system meant to care.”_

_Goro frowns. His sob story being distilled down to its basic elements and being compared to someone like Futaba, whose social anxiety and eccentricities tend to make him cringe, upsets him a little. He can’t quite place the feeling._

_“I was under the impression that Sakura-san’s mother was murdered?” he says, an attempt to pick apart Akira’s assertions._

_“’Officially’” Akira uses air quotes which seems bizarre coming from him, “it was ruled as a suicide. ‘We have elected to believe otherwise.’”_

_Akira’s final statement sounds like he’s quoting someone, likely Futaba herself. “Like I said, basically.”_

_Goro fiddles with one of the chess pieces in front of him, running the cheap wooden figure between gloved fingers._

_“We are nothing alike.”_

The patient’s room opens with a sharp crack and creaks slightly as the door swings wide. There is a dusty bed tucked into the back corner, a small bedside table with a lamp providing weak illumination. Tucked into a hard plastic chair is the small hunched figure of a young Futaba, sobbing softly.

“Ah-“ Goro stops himself. This Futaba hasn’t introduced herself to him, in this strange space that Silent Hill seems to inhabit. What would he call her anyway? Isshiki or Sakura? The girl he destroyed or the one she will build for herself? “What are you doing here?”

Futaba slowly raises her head, red-rimmed eyes barely visible from behind thick glasses. She huddles into herself more and hiccups pitifully.

“I thought my mum would be here,” she says quietly. “They wouldn’t let me see her. They- they said-“ she cuts herself off with a loud wailing cry and Goro quickly steps into the room and shuts the door in an effort to muffle the noise. Futaba had always been protected in the Metaverse, her Persona built only for support and her physical body too frail for hand-to-hand combat. Goro does not doubt that she would need protection against the horrors of the town, and knows he’d be the one providing it even if he didn’t really want to. Reluctantly, he steps closer to her, crouching in front of the chair so he’s no longer standing over her. He gently puts his gun and case on the ground, within reach, and places what he hopes is a reassuring hand on her foot. Her crying quiets and she finally gives Goro a scrutinizing look, as if trying to place him.

“They said I killed her,” she finally says, her voice flat. “But… That’s what you did, isn’t it?”

Goro jerks back, instantly grabbing the gun and raising it almost point blank at Futaba’s head. Her face is more visible now, and he see that this Futaba has somehow aged two years in a second, now 15 and full of rage.

“Are you going to shoot me?” she mocks. “Like you did with my mum? Like you did with _Akira?”_

_Golden yellow eyes filled with sadness as Goro raised his gun at the shadow, just liked he’d been taught. His hand shakes, he can’t help it. This woman had been the only one who’d tried to protect him in this whole big mess and here he is killing her._

_“I’m sorry Goro,” she says. Her voice is gentle, its always been so gentle as she guided him through tests and procedures, so patient as he’d stumbled through her research. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do better by you. Can you tell my daughter? Can you tell Futaba that I love her?”_

_Goro’s mouth is dry, his tongue feels like lead. He can only nod, the pitiful excuse for a human being he is. This will always be the first promise he breaks, but it won’t be the last either._

This Futaba is standing over him now, she seems so much taller and monstrous in the weak light, but Goro cannot bring himself to shoot her.

“She loved you!” he cries, because it’s the only thing he can think of. “She loved you and I killed her.”

He dropped his shaking hand and above him, Futaba stares. Goro had always wondered what would happen if he’d ever been confronted by this terrible knowledge in front of the Thieves. Who would cry, who would try and punch him (Sakamoto in every scenario he imagines), what Futaba, and even Haru whose situation is almost identical, would do.

“I was in over my head the moment I approached Shido and your mother was the only one who tried to protect me from what everyone wanted me to become. I was her little lab Crow, because rats were so much more disposable and she said I was smarter than that. But…” Goro took a shaky breath and forced himself to meet Futaba’s eyes. “My revenge was the only thing that mattered to me.”

Her expression has become unreadable, and she folds back in on herself and sinks back into the chair. She looks young again, no longer the confidant young thief he had known. Goro stands, readies himself to leave.

“I know you cannot forgive me, I am well beyond that. But your mother loved you. You did not kill her, Futaba Sakura. _I did.”_

The girl in the chair looks up at him and as Goro turns and opens the door, he thinks he sees a tiny nod.

_Finding out that Futaba Sakura was actually Futaba Isshiki made Goro want to throw up. Akira had given him a clipped summary; that Futaba had been social recluse after her mother had been murdered, that her blood relatives blamed her for it and that she been passed from abusive home to abusive home before finding herself in the care of Sojiro Sakura. Spawning a Palace from her guilt and warped memories. And then reaching out to the Thieves for help._

_He’d kept a straight face as Akira told the story; words so carefully picked and devoid of emotion that Goro could tell the other boy had been more bothered by it than he let on._

_Wakaba’s murder had always been the one he couldn’t shake, even as he glowed with the praise and attention from Shido and the media. A small niggling part of him that always asked “was she worth it?”_

_Goro had not kept his promise to Wakaba’s Shadow, always finding some convenient excuse as to why he could not confront this girl with Wakaba’s final words. It was hard to look at Futaba’s face, when all he saw Wakaba’s sadness and her final words. How do you keep the promises of a dead woman when you’ve destroyed so much to achieve goals that ultimately mean nothing?_

The remainder of the third floor was mostly empty, a single monstrous nurse twitching and groaning in the break room. The other rooms had been devoid of clues to the office keycode, and it was with some regret that Goro carefully sighted and shot the staggering nurse so he could search the room, having noticed a whiteboard that appeared to have staff information on it. She collapsed, but did not die instantly, so Goro went about the unfortunate task of kicking her until she stopped. His shoes and pants were covered in viscous filth that smelt like old blood, and Goro found himself wishing for Shadows that left no trace when downed.

With silence now returned, Goro considered the whiteboard, slowly deciphering the sloppily written English that ranged from a cheery morning greeting, a request for someone to stop stealing food and a crossed out fridge cleaning schedule that someone had written “AS IF” next to. Only one note caught his interest, a horrible looping cursive stating “the code to my office is a T”. Goro had only noticed the one office with a keypad, being Kaufmann’s on the second floor, so it seemed logical that this was in reference to the shape the code made on the keypad. Simple enough, just required little bit of guesswork. Goro gave the room another once over (nothing in the cupboards and the fridge only contained the dregs of rotten food) before quickly, but quietly, returning to the offending keypad.

Goro had a number of possible combinations he could try as he wiped the dust from the keypad. A 3x4 grid, numbered 1 to 9 with ‘hash’, ‘0’ and ‘asterisk’ making up the bottom row. The keypad itself looked like a similar, if older, version of the keypad used to get into some of the offices at the precinct, so he figured it was probably a 4-digit combination at best. He removed his phone from his pocket, noting the diminished battery life with a small frown, and shone the flashlight over the buttons, noting the buttons that seemed like they showed the most wear. It took three attempts but with a satisfying _chunk_ the door swung inwards to a dusty abandoned office.

It was a small room, much like many of the other rooms in the hospital, and held a cheap desk, chair and a filing cabinet. A clunky old computer and a few neatly stacked papers adorned the desk; everything was covered in a thick layer of dust.

It did not take a lot of rifling to discover that this man was very obviously into a lot of shady shit.

Goro found himself distracted as the search of a desk drawer uncovered an unmarked file brimming with papers and notes; ingredient lists, invoices made out to acronyms. He’d seen files like these before, the meticulously vague record keeping of someone who made and sold drugs. Silent Hill was only big due to the lake that separated its north and south banks, and it seemed that this man, Michael Kaufmann from the looks of the more legal documents, had just about the whole town involved in his network. Initials, acronyms, occasionally a full name, addresses, a few photos that explicitly showed a shadowed individual receiving a wad of cash in exchange for a bag of white substance. Goro’s brain practically itched to dive into this evidence, see how far this spread. Was Kaufmann the only one or was he working for someone bigger than him?

Not every case Goro had solved had been completely fabricated, designed to boost his Detective Prince persona and paint Shido in a more positive light. Some of the smaller cases he’d taken simply to indulge his inquisitive mind, having always had a love for puzzles. Goro shuffled through the pages once more and sighed, placing them back where he’d found them.

In reality this was the kind of case he’d present to Shido, who would then use the evidence as a way of pulling this man into the conspiracy. A cut of his profit in exchange for any slips up being ignored. A generous smile if the man should refuse, and a very pointed explanation that it was Shido’s duty to report such information to the police, but he was oh so willing to look the other way. Goro thought about Kaneshiro, who had screwed up more times than should have been permissible but had been such a valuable source of money that Shido had allowed that man to evade the law again and again.

With the paperwork now pointedly ignored, the rooftop key was not hard to find, carefully labeled and neatly stored. Goro’s earlier inquisitive poking revealed a locked drawer that opened with the key he’d found in the lab coat earlier, the drawer contained a bottle of liquid that looked very similar to the medication that Akira brought into the Metaverse for the Thieves. Goro shook it thoughtfully before placing it neatly into his rapidly filling briefcase.

The door to the rooftop took quite a bit of force to open, even with the key. Somehow, a considerable amount of heavy junk had been placed in front of the door to prevent it opening, but with enough pushing and swearing, Goro was able to slip through and onto the hospital roof. It was a fairly small area, made smaller by the amount of junk that seemed to be stored there. Now out of the hospital, Goro pulled his phone out and switched the torch off, despite the heavy fog it was at least brighter, albeit gloomier. He checked the signal, two struggling bars. Hopefully enough to get a call out.

It was almost automatic, scrolling down to Akira’s number and pressing call. It rang long, far longer than it would normally, but Goro gave it time. The fog made it difficult to see far beyond the edge of the rooftop, and Goro found himself pressed against the chain fencing while he waited, his eyes flicking across shapes in the gloom. Murky buildings, smudged shapes in the distance. A tiny red blinking light far in the distance.

“ _Ak…g… to…”_ The call crackled heavily, the voice on the other side unrecognizable.

“Akira?”

“ _Rad… er…”_

“I can’t hear you!” Goro spun on the spot, frantically trying to hear the voice ( _was it Akira?_ ) that seemed to be repeating a statement over and over again.

“ _Radio tow-“_ the call cut.

“Radio tower?” he repeated.

The red light in the distance. Goro took a deep breath, forcing his hyperactive mind to calm. A radio tower, somewhere in the town, possibly the north side. Almost certainly higher than the hospital roof, perhaps close to a radio station that he could use.

“Right,” he said.

He turned to head back into the hospital, when he felt the back of his neck prickle. This felt stronger than any feeling he’d had so far, a sharp, stiff feeling. Something powerful.

Goro raised his gun, practiced and precise. The air was tense, and Goro took a careful step forward. There was a sudden juddering hiss, a creaking in the junk to his right. He turned smoothly, pointing his gun at the approximate location. A small step in the direction of the door again, then another. Silence.

The slightest shift to his left, and Goro swung around in what would have been a vicious slash if he’d had his sword, but instead became the awkward overextension of a briefcase that didn’t have the reach or balance he was used to. He staggered forward and into a powerful hand that snapped his head backwards, the momentum sending him sprawling. The gun went skittering out of his hand.

He only had a brief moment to take in the creature in front of him, powerfully built and covered in strange, shifting patterns, before having to roll out of the way as a powerful claw slammed into the concrete he’d been a moment earlier. He scrambled away from the creature, spying the gun at the lip of the roof. He just-

A yell tore from his lips as the creature slammed again, sharp claws fastening around his leg and piercing flesh. With a sharp jerk he was tugged backwards, fingernails scrabbling against rough concrete trying to find purchase. The creature adjusted its grip, removing its claws and Goro jerked himself to the side, the sharp movement sending waves of pain through his leg but startling the creature in the process. He rolled out of the way once again, instinctively calling for Loki but all he could feel was a sharp buzzing in his head and the creature _laughing_. He scrambled awkwardly to his feet, injured leg a dead weight. He just needed to _get that gun where was-_

His leg is yanked out from under him, his chin and nose colliding painfully with the ground and something cracking like a gunshot. He only has a moment to register the hot liquid seeping from his nose before he is tossed like a ragdoll at the fence surrounding the roof. The fencing is old and rusted, it gives barely any resistance as he collides with it.

In tangle of rusted metal and limbs, Goro Akechi falls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it took me 8k words to throw Akechi off a roof.


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goro wakes in the Other Hospital

Goro was a light sleeper, always waking at the slightest noise, ready to strike. When he was younger it had been a knife under the pillow, the foster system had taught him the need for nighttime protection, but working for Shido had allowed him to upgrade to a gun.

Now, Goro finds wakefulness hard to come by, his head stuffed with cotton and aching. His eyes feel glued together and with a great amount of effort, he’s able to keep them open long enough to take in his surroundings, dark as they are. A grimy ceiling, peeling and flaking paint streaked with rust, grime and something Goro hopes is not blood. He shifts his head and his nose flairs with pain before settling into a dull ache. It’s a bit difficult to breathe so he props himself on an elbow, the movement sending shuddering jolts of pain through his aching face and leg. Goro curses quietly and gingerly rubs at the dried blood on his face, taking in the rest of his surroundings.

It looks like one of the patient rooms, but only if a recent murder had occurred. A plastic chair is overturned and the bedside table is smashed to pieces in one corner, Goro is currently occupying the only intact piece of furniture in the room. Everything is covered in somehow worse levels of grime, ingrained dirt and mold residue, and most surfaces seem to be splattered and streaked with a dark liquid. The bed is similarly grimy which makes him grimace and wince. At the very least, somehow, his briefcase is sitting neatly next the bed, although the gun is unsurprisingly missing. His phone was still in his pocket, but cracked to the point of being unusable, the screen so glitched he can’t even turn the flashlight on.

It takes some time, but eventually Goro is able to prop himself up in such a way he can inspect his injuries. Even without a mirror, he can tell his nose is well and truly busted, each breath sending spikes of pain through his skull. His chin aches too, but his jaw rotates without issue and all he can feel is a large scabbed over sore. He moves his inspection further down, noting ragged nails, scrapes and bruises on his torso ( _no broken ribs thanks GOD)_ and down to his legs. His right leg aches and each tiny movement sends sharp pain up through his calf. His pant leg is soaked through, and with great difficulty, he’s able to slide the fabric away from his skin and turn it in such a way he can see the injuries better. By this point he was gritting his teeth to fight back tears. Old habits die hard.

His leg is covered in dried and drying blood around four, inch long wounds where the creature had grabbed him. One is mostly scabbed over, more of a scratch than anything, but the remaining three were much deeper and oozed blood. Goro could almost imagine the internal injuries and just counted his lucky stars none had severed an artery. Even still, this was going to be a problem.

The methodical inspection of his wounds, coupled with the pain, had at least helped clear his head a little, so Goro reached for his briefcase ( _shit FUCK DAMMIT)_ and inspected the medical supplies he’d pilfered earlier.

A small bottle of iodine, several rolls of bandages, several half empty pill bottles of varying strength painkillers and the weird bottle of liquid from Kaufmann’s office that was probably the legal kind of drugs.

Goro had gotten very good at patching up his own wounds from his days of Metaverse trawling. At first, the researchers he’d worked with had attended to his wounds, Wakaba had been especially insistent about that, but once he’d been forced into solo work, he’d had to apply second hand knowledge to his wound treatment. Neither Loki nor Robin Hood had any healing to speak of, although some divine entity must have thought it hilarious to give him “Samarecarm” of all things, and medicine in the Metaverse which, while effective, couldn’t quite fix everything and was limited to what he could carry. So, inevitably, injuries followed him into the real world.

With what little he had, and not trusting any supplies that might have been lying around in the room he was currently occupying, he set to work cleaning and bandaging his wounds. The iodine stained his fingers and clothes, but by this point he was too sore and tired to worry about appearances. Anyone who saw him would just have to put up with the fact that he’d been beat to shit. The bandage around his leg was wrapped tightly, blood already staining through the several layers he’d wound, but the pressure would hopefully stop any further bleeding. His leg was beginning to go numb, but at least it was better than 10 out of 10 on the pain scale. Examining the pill bottles, he dry swallowed two of something he’s pretty sure won’t knock him out or kill him in the near future. Hopefully that’ll take the edge off once they’ve digested.

Injuries attended to, he slowly lowered himself from the bed and carefully made his way to the door. Now that he had the time to focus on his surroundings, he was much more aware of the prickling in his neck, the tell tale signs of danger beyond his room. Slowly, carefully, Goro opened the door a crack and listened. The hallway was silent and empty and so, carefully, he exited the room.

Walking was very difficult, each step sending sharp pain up his leg with what little weight he could apply to it. He was just about leaning against the wall, using the grimy surface as a way to put as little weight on it as he could. Even still, Goro limped heavily and slowly down the hall before realizing there was no way in hell he’d be able to walk down the stairs from whatever floor he had woken up on, the third if he had to guess since there were less doors along the corridor. Letting out a disgusted noise, he turned and made his way towards the elevator.

Silent Hill had this oppressive air about it, but somehow in the time since he’d been knocked out, the town had changed, gaining a feeling much more akin to the lower levels of Mementos. Much like the room he had woken up in, the rest of the hospital has acquire a new layer of grime and filth and many of the cobwebs have gotten thicker and hung even lower. Out of the corner of his eye, Goro swears he saw the glimpse of a large spider that quickly scuttled away.

The elevator still dings cheerily when he calls it, but when he tries the button for the first and second floor, the doors remain stubbornly open.

“ _Piece of shit,”_ he cursed angrily. He jabbed the button with a finger a few more times as if that will help, accidently missing a few times. He huffed and leaned against the wall, partly in frustration, mostly to get the weight off his leg. Looks like he’ll have to stumble down the stairs after all. Grunting with the pain, he went to exit the elevator but stopped as the doors calmly closed and the elevator shuddered slightly as it descended.

What the…

The elevator shuddered downwards for a long time, each floor taking longer to reach according to the indicator above the door. Goro watched with growing unrest, leaning heavily against the wall. Slowly, slowly, the elevator juddered to a halt, dinging cheerily as it opened into a pitch-dark basement.

Unlike the hallways of the wards, the hospital basement was not silent, the faint groaning of a distant boiler and hissing of pipes penetrating what little Goro could see of the dark room. The elevator door remained cheerily open, providing a small puddle of light that illuminated a small landing area heavily swathed in cobwebs. A barely visible signboard indicated that the basement housed the boiler room and the morgue, located further in the gloom. Attached to the wall was a small red fire extinguisher, the only one he’d seen in the building.

Goro did not need to be down here as far as he was concerned. There was likely no way of from here, and without a flashlight he’d have no hope of navigating the dark corridors. He jabbed the button for the first floor and, to his surprise, the elevator closed and began its slow descent upwards.

The corridor beyond the reception area was small, containing little more than the elevator and doors to the stairwell. The prickling in the back of his neck had abated somewhat, but Goro stayed wary as he limped towards the reception desk.

The reception area, much like everything else, had gained new layers of grime in his absence and the cobwebs had grown even more numerous, almost to the point where he had to do a double take. The entire entryway was blocked with a thick wall of webbing, encroaching several feet into the waiting area. Through the thick swathes he could see tiny black spiders that skittered out of the way as his breath disturbed some of the finer outer strands.

To put it mildly, Goro certainly wasn’t a fan of spiders. Definitely not a phobia, but the crawling sensation he got whenever he watched one of the little buggers skitter away had never ceased to make him shudder. Pushing through the webbing was out of the question that was for certain. He took a careful seat in one of the grimy plastic chairs to take the weight off his leg, and pondered his next move.

Based on the crumpled (and now bloodstained) map of the hospital, the reception doors seemed to be the only exit, and the exploration Goro had done earlier had backed that up. He needed a way to get through the webs in the way, and physically pushing through the sticky webbing didn’t exactly sit highly on his list. Maybe he could burn it…? He’d need a lighter for that; probably some chemicals to better spread the fire.

“Jesus this is such a stupid fucking plan.”

Groaning, he stood and made his way back into the hospital.

By now, the painkillers had started to kick in, taking the edge off the worst of his complaints, but his inability to put his full weight on his leg was beginning to cause problems. He could no longer move down the halls with predatory silence, and the lack of gun now made the need for stealth even more necessary. He started with the second floor again, the elevator cheerily opening and alerting the next of his problems. The halls had somehow filled with more nurses, three groaning twitching figures being alerted to his location the moment the doors opened. They moved slowly, each had different but similarly debilitating disfigurements that prevented them moving any faster than a slow lurch, but with Goro’s leg injured as it was, they were evenly matched and unsuited for a chase. With an irritated growl, Goro ducked awkwardly between flailing limbs to begin his search of the rooms once again. He had not explored the second floor very thoroughly in his initial search of the hospital; Goro now found himself rifling through cabinets for everything he deemed useful. A few of the rooms contained medical supplies that he gratefully swiped, one room even hiding a first aid kit that appeared to contain a basic suture supplies. He returned to Kaufmann’s office and found it overturned, papers strewn everywhere, drawers gaping open, but found nothing new. Frustrations mounting, Goro returned to the elevator, angrily jabbed the third floor button, the door snapping shut in a pursuing nurse’s face.

Goro’s luck was a lot better on the third floor. Rifling through a storeroom he’d investigated earlier had revealed a can of bug spray and a small, half empty bottle of flammable cleaning fluid. One of the treatment rooms that he had originally passed off as empty contained the splintered and worn remains of a matchbox and several matches, not particularly ideal but if his luck held, hopefully just good enough. The corridors of the third floor were blessedly quiet, so he takes his time doing another once over of the rooms, just in case.

The reception area is just as dark and quiet as he’d left it, the wall of webbing a pale fog on the opposing side of the room. Carefully lighting one of the matches, he held it to the wispy strands of the wall. The strands smoldered, ignited, the tiny flame dancing in patterns too quick to keep track of before abruptly fizzling out, leaving a fist size dent.

Goro took a careful seat and considered what he had on hand.

An improvised flamethrower with the bug spray and matches was probably a Bad Idea, especially considering how little of each match remained. His next best option was probably an improvised Molotov cocktail, stuffing some of the bandages he’d picked up into the tiny bottle and hoping he didn’t burn the hospital down once he’d thrown it. It… wasn’t ideal. Goro gave an irritated huff.

The only place he hadn’t explored was the basement. The corridors of the hospital were dark, but there had been enough windows set in the walls that, grimy as they were, it was still possible to navigate by the weak light they provided. The basement was a different story, pitch black and deep underground. He eyed the cleaning fluid and placed it on the chair next to him. There was very little in it, barely more than the length of his fingernail, so it probably wouldn’t spread too far… A thought struck him. The fire extinguisher he’d seen, the tiny red thing only a few steps from the relative safety of the elevator. It was as good a safeguard as any. He sifted through his medical supplies and dry swallowed a couple more pills, anything to help with the insistent pain, and made his way back to the elevator.

The basement was instantly a bad idea. The elevator descended in fits and starts and shuddered open only halfway before the little light blinked out, plunging Goro into darkness. He holds his breath, counts in the stillness. Allows his eyes to adjust. The basement does not sound like it had before, the thrumming of machinery and pipes having been replaced with a low skittering noise. The basement had been filled with cobwebs hadn’t it? Goro tried not to think about the source of the noise and took a careful step out of the elevator. Another step, slowly, one hand outstretched for the wall he had seen the fire extinguisher attached to. Another-

His outstretched fingers collide with the wall and he quickly began patting around for the extinguisher. The darkness was all consuming, he couldn’t see his hand in front of his face even if he tried, the only sound his breathe rushing in his ears, the skittering and chattering of something in the darkness, a shuddering hiss-

His hand found the fire extinguisher and he wrenched it away, stumbling backwards in the dark. His leg screamed in protest, a muffled groan escaped his lips. The pain gave him clarity, he took a deep breath and fumbled for the box of matches and lit one, the tiny light illuminating the small landing space. Empty. Goro exhaled (carefully, the match would only last so long) and slowly back up into the elevator, jabbing the button as he did.

Nothing.

Of course. _Piece of shit, good for nothing, rundown-_

Probably just a power problem right? Hospitals typically had backup generators in the event of power grid failures; have to keep emergency services running no matter what right? The match was burning low, singing the tips of his gloves so Goro blew the flame out, plunging him back into darkness. All this running around was starting to grate on his nerves.

Setting the extinguisher and briefcase down in the elevator, Goro once again fumbled blindly for the wall, leaning heavily once he’d found it. Matches were in short supply, and he’d need at least one for the upstairs webbing, so for now he’d just have to creep around in the dark and hope nothing attacked him. Fairly stupid, but it was the best he had.

Goro followed the wall closely, slowly carefully creeping his way down the pitch-black corridor, straining his ears for the slightest sounds. The faintest of chitterings, the low squeaking of water pipes. The wall gave way unexpectantly and Goro felt the edges. A doorway most likely. Now felt as good a time as any to dip into his match reserves. A spark, a blinding flash. Goro sucked in a gasp.

The morgue.

Even in the darkness, this room was unlike any of the others. Spotlessly clean and sterile, everything neatly in its place. Neat rows of draws, perfect and pristine, and at the far back-

The match went out. Goro cursed and fumbled in the dark for another.

It seemed likely that the morgue probably had items of use to him, something he could use as a weapon, a doctor’s penlight perhaps (surely that wasn’t just a movie invention…?).

Carefully stepping into the morgue and to the approximate location of the cupboards, Goro struck another match and began hunting around for anything of use. The matches, small and splintered as they were, barely provided light for long enough but a quick scan of the cupboards revealed a roll of paper towels he was more than willing to set alight. It was unconventional, but provided just enough light for long enough that he was able to find a drawer of medical equipment, scalpel and penlight included.

“Huh,” he murmured clicking the light experimentally on and off. Something felt too… convenient. He carefully slipped the scalpel into a pocket and swung the light around the dark corner of the room he hadn’t been able to see earlier.

A single drawer, the door open and yawning. A body covered in a shroud, neatly tucked away and out of sight. He moved slowly, carefully, over to the drawer and hesitantly closed and locked the door. There was a neat handwritten nameplate on the front.

_Wakaba Isshiki._

_Her body was covered in a shroud, laid out precisely and perfectly on a metal slab. Goro clenched his fists, clenched his jaw. He’d shot her shadow and three days later she’d walked into traffic. A tragedy, an accident they all said. A hand clapped him on the shoulder, startling him from his thoughts._

_“Completely undetected. Well done.” Shido’s tone was even._

_Goro couldn’t help but feel conflicted. He was one step closer to his goal, but why did he feel like he hadn’t achieved anything?_

_“Come, there is much more to do.”_

Things were starting to click into place ever so slightly.

He retreated out of the morgue and back into the hall. Now that he could actually see, Goro shuddered at the amount of spider webs swathing the halls, small skittering bodies retreating out of sight as he played the light over the surfaces. The corridor was long and surprisingly winding, and unfortunately filled with strange shroud wrapped creatures, not unlike what he had seen lying dead in the street. They stumbled silently after him, faster than any of the nurses, but would retreat groaning when he drew blood with the scalpel.

The boiler room was small, tucked in an out of the way corner, and contained silent machinery. Goro crouched in front of the machinery, his injured leg stuck out at an awkward angle, and examined everything. The boiler was unimportant, but tucked just out of sight was a small emergency generator, silent and cold. Gas powered from the look of it, a small fuel gauge reading empty. He swung the torch around the room, the beam playing across fuel canister tucked in the corner. Goro let out a sigh of relief, at least that was easy. He got up, reached for the can-

A shuddering hiss filled the room and Goro jerked back, quickly switching the light off. He stood, stock still, straining his ears for any telltale sound. Another hiss, sharper and then a rasping scraping noise as something entered the room, a sharp _tck tck_ of claws on the concrete. Goro took a careful, limping step backwards, his injured leg scraping ever so slightly. The creature stopped, made a sharp sniffing noise and let out a low rumbling laugh. Goro’s mind seemed filled with static, it felt all consuming. The creature moved closer, painfully, _deliberately_ , slowly. He could feel it just beyond the static, impossibly close, a hot heavy breath on his face. A rush of air, the creature opening a mouth he could only imagine as impossibly wide-

In the distance, a siren. Long, droning, piercing through the static and Goro shoved on instinct, the creature hissing and stumbling. Goro lunged on instinct, now accustomed to the weight and reach of scalpel the tiny blade sank into muscular flesh and the creature _screeched,_ a flurry of limbs as the creature scuttled backwards, something thick and heavy lashing out and striking him across the face. Dazed, Goro was barely aware of the scraping of claws retreating and the siren fading out into the distance.

Finally, silence. Goro took several calming breathes and finally switched the flashlight back on. Deep gouges marred the concrete floor, the creature’s flailing had dislodged pipes and shelving from the walls. Goro listened carefully, but the silence was only punctuated by his heavy breathing. Collapsing slightly, Goro could feel the adrenaline rush fading, leaving him exhausted. God, he needed a nap.

Goro allowed himself some time to rest, propped against the silent generator. He didn’t have a watch, his phone was busted, so he had no idea how long he had been in the hospital, let alone since he’d woken on the train, but the exhaustion made it feel like the engine room had been years ago.

This world was not real, he decided, in the same way the Metaverse wasn’t really real. He stood, limped unsteadily over the fuel canister and began filling the generator. There was no way any of this could be possible otherwise, these strange monsters roaming the halls and a Futaba that seemed more dream than real. Everything felt strangely connected, too related to his experiences. Which begged the question, where was he? A Palace? A dream? The final moments of brain activity before he died? He was very aware that he didn’t know how he woken on the train when his last memory had been the engine room.

After a moment of fiddling, the generator puttered to life and Goro retreated out of the room and into the hall. The corridor was different, the rotted, decaying concrete now just rough hewn, the walkways now empty and quiet. Goro leaned heavily against the wall as he limped back, wary. Just because things might not be entirely real, didn’t mean he couldn’t get hurt, and just because the creatures and monsters had disappeared ( _fled?_ ), didn’t mean there weren’t lurking somewhere out of eyesight.

The way back was shorter somehow and as Goro passed the morgue he found the once open door shut tight. He paused in front of the door, hand hovering over the handle.

“I’m sorry Isshiki-san,” he said quietly.

The elevator was closed when he returned to it, but dinged cheerily when he pressed the button, his briefcase and the fire extinguisher just as he’d left them. Once again, he rode it upwards in silence, the corridor and reception area once again returned to their original dusty state. The wall of webbing was still there, which Goro was quietly relieved about, he probably would have set the hospital on fire anyway if it hadn’t been there after everything that had happened in his absence.

Ripping a length of bandage and stuffing it into the abandoned bottle of cleaning fluid, he steadily lit one of the matches (only three left now) and carefully held the flame to the cotton. For a moment, he was uncertain if it would catch, but after a tense moment the cotton flared and Goro carefully pushed the bottle through the hole he’d made earlier, the flames catching on strands and eating through the wall. The bottle settled into the sticky webbing, and Goro took several careful steps back, extinguisher now in hand as the flames rapidly spread. After a moment, the bottle exploded with a sharp crack and billowing smoke and fire began to fill the room as the webbing was devoured by the rapidly spreading flames.

Goro watched, feeling the heat on his face and the smoke in his nostrils. He wondered what would happen if Shido confessed. Would the conspiracy go up in smoke too, the branching flames taking everyone responsible down with him? The door was visible by now, so Goro directed the extinguisher at the remaining flames, coughing slightly at the smoke. There was always damage control, always people who got away, even if you knew they were involved. The air was hazy, filled with acrid smoke and Goro covered his nose with his sleeve as his collected his briefcase and limped heavily towards the door, discarding the fire extinguisher. Not that much different from murder, he supposed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goro: I will set fire to this hospital even if it kills me.
> 
> I'm done with uni for the year so hopefully I'll be able to write more and not leave this as another of ao3's unfinished fics. Things have been planned out and will continue apace, hopefully


	4. IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goro leaves the hospital and receives some answers, but generally more questions.

The air of Silent Hill was moist and chill after the dense smoke of the reception. Despite the fact that Goro was stepping out into territory he knew was unsafe, the prickling in the back of his neck had increased the moment he had opened the door, he instead flopped on the top step with his leg stretched out in front of him. The fabric was damp and now that he had the time to think about it, he could feel the squish of his sock inside his shoe. He eyed the leg nervously; Goro definitely didn’t want to see how bad things had gotten.

Goro sat for some time, resting his leg and thinking about the best way to the radio tower. It wasn’t on the map as far as he could remember, but he knew it was across the lake on the north side of the town. There was only one road across the lake; it seemed a simple enough walk all things considered. Now all he had to do was _walk._ Grimacing, he rifled through the medication he had on hand. How long had it been since his last one? He didn’t know, but his leg hurt like nobody’s business. He dry swallowed one and stood gingerly, just about stumbling down the short flight of stairs. He was… a lot of things.

Goro quickly oriented himself and began limping carefully down the street.

He hadn’t gone very far when he saw the little girl. Even with the heavy fog, the girl stuck out like a beacon, her dress a rich navy and hair like spun gold. She was sitting on a bench swinging her legs and fidgeting with the hem of her dress, deep in thought. Goro paused uncertainly and the girl seemed to notice him, her head snapping in his direction. Her eyes were a startling yellow.

“Wildcard.” She sounded surprised.

“What do you want?”

“I’m… surprised,” she said uncertainly. She patted the bench next to her but Goro stayed where he was. For all he knew this was just another trick of the town.

“You’re hurt,” she stated, patting the bench a little harder. “I won’t do you any more harm, I swear.”

“Look kid,” he replied harshly. “I’ve had a rough day and I don’t trust you. I think I’ll stay where I am.”

The girl looked sad and uncertain but gave a tiny nod.

“My name is Lavenza. I’d like to help you, Wildcard, even if I could not help you before.”

The standing was starting to make his leg hurt. He grimaced.

“What the hell does that mean? And why are you calling me ‘Wildcard’? My name is Akechi.”

Lavenza tilted her head and fiddled with a strand of hair, seeming to consider her answer. Goro frowned. _Big thoughts, small words._

“You were… chosen,” she seemed unhappy with the choice of word, but continued anyway. “To wield the power of the Wildcard.” When Goro raised an eyebrow she quickly clarified. “Wield multiple Personae.”

Robin Hood and Loki. “ _One for your hate, one for your lies”._ He pushed the thought aside and gave the girl an unimpressed look.

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“There was an imposter, a being that thought it could control humanity. It chose you as its champion to sow discord and madness, should you win against humanity’s champion it would remake the world in its image.” Lavenza looked immeasurably sad.

His leg hurt too much, he limped over and sat next to the little girl, keeping a good foot between them. He placed his head in his hands and groaned.

“Someone’s puppet to the very end, I’m so fucking _pathetic_.”

Lavenza reached over and gave him an awkward pat on the arm.

“You could not have known. The game was rigged, and you were not given the proper opportunities to hone your abilities. I would have been there to assist you if I had been allowed.”

Goro gave a derisive snort.

“What could someone like you do to help me? You’re just a kid.” Even as he said that, Goro knew that wasn’t quite accurate. There was something timeless about Lavenza, like a porcelain doll. She gave a gentle smile.

“I am an attendant of the Velvet Room. I would have helped you strengthen your Personae and forge your bonds. Such are my duties, and many more.”

Goro rolled her words over in his mind. He remembered, vaguely from a long time ago, a commanding voice in his dreams and the feeling of being split in two, awakening to the madness that was Loki.

“Kurusu was humanity’s champion wasn’t he?”

Lavenza nodded.

“And you helped him?”

Lavenza shook her head slowly.

“The imposter defeated my master and tore my soul in two. The two halves the imposter deemed vulnerable enough to manipulate assist the Trickster now. I am simply what remains. Hence, why I am here.”

Ignoring the fact that Akira was humanity’s champion, because of course he fucking was, Goro gave her a confused look.

“Here?” He gestured to the foggy street. “You mean Silent Hill?”

“This town, while real, also resides on the border to the Other Side and the Sea of Souls. There was an… incident,” she said the word somewhat distastefully, “many years ago.”

Goro was starting to slot the pieces together. The picture was strange, but he was starting to get an idea of what it was.

“It’s like a purgatory then? So… we’re dead?” Voicing the suspicion he’d had for a while sounded strange out loud.

Lavenza fidgeted with the hem of her dress and avoided his gaze.

“This town calls to people who belong here. It is what you make of it.”

Goro snorted in annoyance but Lavenza didn’t clarify her answer, simply beginning to hum softly. Her voice was soothing, more so than he wanted to admit, and as they sat together deep in thought, he was aware that the prickling in the back of his neck was gone and his aches and pains had dulled to almost nothing.

“Something contacted me,” he finally said quietly. “Told me to go to the radio tower.”

Lavenza nodded.

“Go then,” she said, standing and giving a low curtsy. “I will help you however I can.”

Goro stood and Lavenza slipped a tiny, gloved hand into his. He felt young again, holding her hand. She looked up at him and gave him a gentle smile, and together, they walked into the gloom.

Walking with Lavenza was strangely soothing. Things still hurt, but Goro found himself leaning on her tiny frame, which at least helped alleviate the worst of it. Lavenza took his weight without complaint, only occasionally humming. They did not speak to each other; there was no need to.

It wasn’t long before they ran into a problem though.

The bridge to the north side of Silent Hill acts as both road and footpath, and the lake facing side has several binoculars at the edge of the fencing. Under normal circumstances, it would have been quaint, maybe even idyllic. They’re not far down the road before they see construction signs and warnings guarding a pile of rubble and large gash in the road. Goro lets go of Lavenza’s hand and limps forward to better inspect the damage.

The damage to the road is bad, like someone had blown a hole and collapsed a good 15 feet of the road. There’s no way of jumping it, even if his leg wasn’t fucked, and while there is a small section that might be possible to shimmy across and then jump the remaining gap, he definitely doesn’t want to risk it.

Goro lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Lavenza, is there any other-“ he turns to face the little girl, but he can’t see her. How is that possible? She sticks out like a sore thumb even in the fog and he’d left her for 5 seconds. “Lavenza?”

He lets out a slew of curses even though he knows it won’t do anything and limps heavily over to the railing. What the fuck is he going to do? He can’t cross the bridge and he has no idea whether or not there’s another way to the other side of the town. And of course, Lavenza, being his only source of knowledge (despite how cryptic she’d been in their previous conversation), had just fucking _left?_ He lets out a frustrated (and slightly pained who’s he kidding) growl and leans heavily on the railing.

In the gloom there is a shuffling noise, a slight scrape that only comes from someone trying their hardest to be silent, and then a figure walks into view. Goro puts the filthiest expression he can muster onto his face and carefully slips his hand into his pocket and around the handle of the scalpel.

The figure that walks into view, not a single hitch or shuffle in its steps, is tall and gangly, a boy with a mop of dark curly hair peaking out from a hooded jacket. He walks carefully, slowly, and pauses a short distance away. Goro adjusts his position at the railing, trying to hide the fact it’s just about the only thing keeping him upright. He’s still a little too far away for Goro to get a good look of his face, because he could swear that this kid, because his face is just too innocent and boyish to be anything less than a teenager, looks just like Akira.

The two stare at each other for a long moment, neither quite willing to break the silence as they study each other. Eventually, the other boy seems to relax a little, apparently satisfied with whatever assessment he’d been forming and moves closer.

“What the hell happened to you?” he asks, his tone joking.

Goro’s brain just about short circuits.

“Kurusu?”

_Finding out that Akira had a criminal record had been a little shocking. The boy dressed, for lack of a better word, like a nerd, with big thick glasses, scruffy hair and a uniform always neatly pressed and to code. Assault, apparently, although his statement vehemently denied it. Goro generally associated high school delinquents with assault records with piercings and cigarettes, bleach blonde hair and a bad attitude. Sakamoto would have fit the bill perfectly and the fact that he had an assault on his student file did not surprise Goro. Adults were always a little different, much better at hiding their emotions behind facades of rumpled suits and tired expressions, but teens tended to be much more open. Akira was mild mannered, well spoken, and hid a country accent behind polite silence. Even when Goro had joined the team and had gotten to see Joker in all his glory, violent delinquent didn’t suit him. Showoff maybe, but never delinquent._

It is Akira, there’s no one else it could be. The hair, the eyes, his voice. Hell, even the way he talks. Sure, he’s not wearing glasses, and this one seems to have a few too many piercings compared to the last time he’d seen his rival, but its _him_.

The boy standing at about arm’s length blatantly examining Goro’s injuries, laughs.

“What, I look like your boyfriend or something? The name’s Ren Amamiya.”

Goro flushed.

“What- I-“ what the _fuck_. He tried to stand a little straighter but failed, sagging slightly against the railing as the boy, Ren, started circling him.

“Akechi.”

“Ah.” The boy nods. Goro wonders why he looks like Akira, if this is a Futaba situation, something that looks like someone he knows but isn’t quite. He wonders if this boy will demand a confession of sins as well.

“What happened to you?” the other boy repeats, waving his hand vaguely over Goro’s body. “You look like you went wading through a pool of… blood.”

Ren’s questioning snaps Goro back to himself and he lets out a short bark of laughter.

“There are monsters in the streets Amamiya, or haven’t you noticed?”

Ren’s face contorts though several emotions before he turns to the railing, fishing around in his pocket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He lights one, takes a deep breath and blows several smoke rings into the fog. Goro can’t help but be ~~impressed~~ disgusted.

“Just making conversation,” Ren mumbles. “You just look like you’ve had it really bad.”

Goro made a disgusted noise and elected not to indulge the boy’s questioning.

“I need to get to the other side of the lake.”

Ren frowned and took another drag of the cigarette.

“Bridge is busted.”

“ _I know,_ ” he bites back. “But I need to get to the radio tower.”

“I don’t think you’re in good enough shape to be doing that,” Ren said, turning to face him. “Should probably go to the hospital.”

“The hospital is the reason I can’t walk properly,” Goro snapped. Jesus his leg hurts.

 ~~Akira~~ Ren fiddled with a lock of hair, took another deep inhale from his cigarette.

“There’s a boat launch,” he finally says. “By the Historical Society. There’s usually a boat there.”

Goro vaguely remembers seeing that building when he’d been walking with Lavenza. He pushes himself away from the railing, intending to retrace his steps before pausing momentarily.

“You haven’t seen a little girl have you? Short, blue dress? Cryptic conversationalist?”

Ren shakes his head, opening and closing his mouth a few times like he wants to say something. Goro shrugs, and turns away, beginning to limp into the mist.

“There are monsters out there,” Ren says, a little confused. “You can’t-“

“ _I can,_ ” Goro just about spits. “I have to get to that radio tower.”

He can see the conflicted emotions flitting across Ren’s face. This boy is so much easier to read than Akira ever was, who hoarded his emotions like a dragon does gold and gave them out only sparingly.

“I’m coming too,” he finally says, a stubborn set to his jaw. “How else are you going to get into the Historical Society anyway?”

Goro gave him a confused look.

“I work there,” he says by way of explanation. “I have a key.”

Goro frowns, but nods anyway. Better than running cluelessly around the town looking for one anyway.

Ren offers his arm to Goro, but he pushes past the other boy. He should really take the offered help, but even if this boy isn’t Akira he doesn’t want to be seen as weak in front of him. Ren looks… sad at his refusal, but falls into step beside him quickly.

“There’s a seat just outside the building,” he says as they walk. “You should sit there while I go get my key.”

“There’s monsters on the streets, Amamiya. We’ve already established that.”

“Yeah,” he pauses, takes a final drag of the cigarette and tosses it away. “But my apartment is that way-” he pointed vaguely into the fog “-and up a bunch of stairs. Those things tend to leave you be if you ignore them anyway.”

“They were attacking me,” Goro says. “In the hospital.”

“Not on the streets though.”

“No, not on the streets. But I don’t-“

“Look.” Ren looks unimpressed. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a knife, flips it over so its facing Goro handle first. “I’ll give you this if you’re so worked about it; to defend yourself.”

Goro wants to ask where he got the knife.

“I have something already,” he says instead, pushing the handle away. Ren shrugs, flips the blade several times (show off) then pockets it again.

“Suit yourself. I still think you should wait on that bench though.”

Goro doesn’t want to agree, but he’s bone tired and in more pain than he cares to admit.

“Let’s just go.”

The two walk the short distance to the Historical Society building in silence, Ren purposefully shortening his strides to keep up with Goro’s limp. Just as he’d mentioned, there’s a wooden bench just outside under a dead looking tree and Goro just about collapses on it. His head feels like its stuffed full of cotton. Ren dithers for a moment before promising to return quickly and disappearing into the fog.

The air is cool and moist, and almost completely still. Goro can’t help but doze, feeling disconnected from his body. The prickling at the back of his neck does not abate, but it does not increase. He’s so _tired._

_“I hate you!” he shrieks. The Thieves stand opposite him, loosely clustered together in varying stances. Most of them look ready for a fight, Sakamoto taps his pipe against his leg, Nijima subtly shifts her stance. In the back, Futaba shrinks in on herself while Haru and Ann almost immediately step in front of her, a barrier against his hate. The only one that doesn’t move is Joker. He looks… sad? The mask covers too much of his already unreadable face for Goro to tell._

_“How you could you be better than me? The things I have done to get here! And to think attic trash like you could just waltz through and sacrifice NOTHING to get what you want!”_

_Goro hates what he’s become, what he’s been made to do. The people he’s killed, the lives he’s ruined, all for some revenge he won’t get. He knows now, as he reaches for Loki and tears his mind apart that he won’t win. He was never going to, that even if he beat Joker here and now, something else he couldn’t beat would stand in his way and strike him down. His mind is twisted, rotten, broken, but he knows he’s lost._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hi Maria.
> 
> \--  
> I've always thought that Akechi's engine room speech can go two ways; that he has no regrets about the things that he's done and is simply angry that Joker hasn't had to do the things he's done to achieve greater success OR that he's intensely regretful of the things that he's done, especially in light of how he won't be achieving his goal, and he's jealous that Joker has been able to achieve a lot more without having to sacrifice his morals. He's been willing to go to extremes but would probably prefer if he didn't. If you couldn't tell, I like to subscribe to the latter school of thought since it makes Akechi infinitely more interesting.


	5. V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goro's wounds are treated. The two boys talk.

There’s a ceiling above him. That doesn’t seem right. Its water stained and sagging slightly, but its there. Goro blinks a few, shakes his head to clear the cobwebs in his brain. He was on a bench…?

He raises himself on an elbow, hissing and wincing as his leg moves. Well that certainly hasn’t changed in the time between the bench and now, although his trousers are split to the knee and wrapped in thick white bandages. Huh.

“Oh, you’re awake.”

Standing in a doorway across the room, Ren looks a little startled. In his hand is a steaming mug that smells like shitty coffee.

“What…” Goro tries, but his mouth is dry and tacky, his throat like sandpaper.

The other boy raises and finger and quickly turns back into the room he’d just appeared from and then reappears with a glass of water, crossing the room and holds the glass for Goro to take.

Now given the opportunity, Goro looks around. A fairly small room, with a wooden reception desk, the few puffy armchairs, the couch he’s currently lying on and a coffee table dominating the centre of the room. A small rack of newspapers and magazines and a dying (but not dead) potted plant. The room is shockingly mundane compared to the hospital and only lightly swathed in cobwebs.

Gratefully, Goro takes the glass and chugs the water while Ren sits carefully on the edge of the low coffee table and sips his drink.

“You’ve been passed out for a while,” he says. “I’m not surprised honestly.”

“Where’s-“

Ren stands and reaches behind one of the armchairs and pulls out his briefcase and a backpack.

“Hope you don’t mind but I had a look through your briefcase. That suture kit was really handy.”

Goro takes a moment to swallow an angry snap that Ren had gone snooping through his stuff.

“You stitched my leg up?”

“Yeah.” Ren looks a little uncomfortable. “I had a look at it while you were out, figured you being unconscious was the best time to do it. Those pills you’ve been taking are really strong by the way.”

Passing out on the bench made a little more sense now. Ren rifles through his backpack for a moment before pulling a pair of pants out and holds them out. Goro stares at them for a moment, uncomprehending. When they’re not taken immediately, he goes back to rifling through the bag, seemingly reorganizing it.

“You’re probably about my size so I grabbed a spare while I was home. Grabbed some supplies too.”

Goro shifts his gaze, watching as the boy fusses and fidgets with the bag.

_“Curry.” A container of curry is shaken in front of his face as Goro stands at the edge of the platform watching the trains full of shadows go by. He frowns._

_“Are you always this prepared? Last stop you pulled out coffee and snacks for everyone.”_

_Joker rubs the back of his neck with a free hand._

_“I’m just looking out for everyone.”_

_Behind them, the group are sitting on grimy plastic seats with little containers of curry on their lap, talking and laughing as Sakamoto tries and fails to catch some snack that Ann is pelting him with._

_“You do this in the Palace too.”_

_Joker shrugs._

_“Someone’s gotta do it.”_

_Goro takes the container and cracks the lid, the familiar scent of Le Blanc curry filling the space between them. Joker pulls a spoon from his pocket and hands it to him. A thought strikes Goro._

_“Wait. Don’t you get help?”_

_Joker shrugs again and stuffs his hands back in his pockets._

_“People are busy. They just tell me what they want and I go get it.”_

_“They don’t-“_

_Joker cuts him off._

_“I don’t mind doing it, honestly. It’s easier anyway.”_

_Goro had come to the assumption that the Thieves worked as a team both in and out of the Metaverse. Nijima was a lot like her sister, so he expected that at least she would be helping. He opens and closes his mouth several times, unable to form his thoughts into a coherent sentence. He’s_ angry _._

_“You shouldn’t be doing everything for them,” he’s finally able to spit out._

_Joker huffs, a rare moment of frustration._

_“They’re using you.” As if he isn’t._

_“It’s just how things have worked out Crow.” Joker rests a hand on his shoulder for a moment and opens his mouth like he’s going to say something but stops himself. “Eat,” he finally says. “Let me know if there’s anything you want for next time, ok?”_

“Why do you always do this?”

Ren looks up from his fussing and frowns.

“What do you mean?”

“This.” Goro gestures at the bag, his leg. “Going out of your way to help people? Even when they don’t return the favour?”

Ren tilts his head.

“I think you’re mistaking me for someone else again,” he says, fidgeting with the bag straps. “Besides, you needed help.”

“I don’t deserve it,” Goro replies bitterly. “You should just let me go.”

The other boy snorts.

“It’s not about deserving it Akechi. If you need help, you should be getting it.” He downs the rest of his drink and stands, stretching his limbs with a loud _pop_. “Anyway, I think you should rest a little longer. I’m going to look for the key to the manager’s office.”

He disappears back through the door he came out of and Goro hears the sound of a running tap and the rumble of an electric kettle. Carefully, Goro swings his legs off the couch ( _shit that still hurts_ ­) and inspects his belongings. The majority of his medical supplies are gone, likely having been used to clean his wounds, but Goro can’t really complain very much. At least he’s in no danger of bleeding out for now. He’s tempted to snoop through the backpack, but Ren pokes his head back through the door.

“Do you drink coffee?”

Goro nods.

“Milk, no sugar.”

“Gotcha.”

He disappears briefly, before once again returning to the couch with a mug he places on the coffee table.

“The boat at the launch is the manager’s, she rents it out to tourists so they can get to the hotel on the lake. The key is usually at the desk-“ he points to the reception desk and pulls a face- “but it’s not there.”

“So you’re thinking it’s in the manager’s office?”

“It’s the only other place I can think of.”

Goro nods.

“Makes sense.”

He reaches for the mug and takes a sip, gagging slightly. Definitely instant, and not even a good brand. He placed the mug back on the table as delicately as possible.

“So you’re from this town?” he asked.

Ren nods.

“Been here since…” he trailed off a little uncertainly. “Long enough.”

“Is this place always like this?” Goro gestured around a little vaguely, trying to get his point across.

“I mean, it gets pretty foggy, but the monsters are new.”

Ren stands and walks over to the reception desk and begins rifling through drawers.

“There’s an urban legend in the town though,” he continues, his voice slightly muffled as he crouched behind the desk to continue his search. “Some shady cult stuff way back when. The story goes that they were trying to summon whatever god they worshipped using human sacrifice. It didn’t work and a little girl got badly burnt. That part’s true as far as I know. Apparently, it created a-“ he pauses and sits up, his head just visible from behind the desk- “hell dimension. Lots of monsters, lots of fog. People died.” He shrugs as he stands. “Just a story though.”

Goro wondered if it was the same “incident” that Lavenza had referred to.

Ren makes a tutting noise and retreats back through the doorway. Goro can hear shuffling in the other room, the opening and closing of cupboards. He eyes the backpack on the table, pulls it close to him. Ren had left it open and a brief glance is severely disappointing. It’s mostly filled with medical supplies, but Goro finds a flashlight and a handful of spare batteries, a coil of rope and a few snack bars. He figures that Ren probably kept the knife on him, so not finding that doesn’t surprise him, but at the bottom, wrapped in a shirt, is a gun. He pulls it out, inspects it. It’s a lot like the pistol that Akira favours in the Metaverse, although slightly less ostentatious and way more real. Loaded too, although Goro doesn’t find any spare clips loose in the bag.

There’s a sudden shuffle in the other room, a loud curse and Goro just about throws the gun back into the bag, the backpack sliding way out of position, and Goro grabs the pants he’d been offered and limps over to the room just as Ren appears in the doorway.

“Ah!”

Goro holds the pants up and shakes them slightly.

“Oh,” Ren looks sheepish. “Bathroom over there.” He points, goes to continue, and quickly stops himself. Goro quirks an eyebrow but nods anyway and heads in the direction he’s been directed towards.

The room Ren had spent so much time in seemed to be a cross between employee lounge and kitchen with two other doors leading further into the building. One is the bathroom; the other seemed to lead to an office.

Now given the privacy and relative cleanliness of the bathroom, Goro changed quickly, avoiding his reflection in the mirror, and discarded his destroyed pants in the tiny bin propped in the corner. Ren wasn’t wrong, the pants fit almost perfectly, although they are perhaps a little tight about the waist. He leaned heavily against the sink, head bowed to avoid the mirror, and began thinking.

What now?

Get that boat key and use it get to the north shore, from there find the radio tower. Somehow leave the clone of his rival behind.

But then what? He had no idea what waited for him at the radio tower. He doubted it was a way back to Tokyo.

There was a quiet knock at the door, interrupting his ruminations.

“Hey, uh, Akechi?”

He turned as Ren cracked the door, his fingers curled around the edge. He had a ring on his finger, a clunky silver thing that Goro hadn’t noticed before.

“So, good news, bad news.” Ren tapped his fingers against the door before opening it fully. He looked frustrated. Goro made a gesture, indicating the other boy continue.

“Good news is that I probably know where the key it. Bad news is it’s probably in the downstairs store room.”

Goro quirked an eyebrow.

“I’m assuming there’s something wrong with downstairs storage.”

“Yeah.” Ren pulled a face and leaned against the doorframe. “It’s the old prison, we do tours and stuff down there of the main area. We use some of the out of the way cells for storage.”

Goro already knows where this is going.

“If the hospital and the streets are anything to go by, you’re assuming that the prison is filled with monsters too?”

Ren huffs, sighs and nods.

“And that’s only if my hunch is correct,” he replied. “You shouldn’t go down there.”

It was Goro’s turn to be irritated.

“I need to get to the other side of the lake and I need that key to do it. There’s no way I’m going to let you stop me.” He pursed his lips as he adjusted his weight on his leg. “And _you’re_ not coming with me.”

“No way.” Ren set his jaw and frowned. “Absolutely, no way. You’re injured! You-“ his expression suddenly turned smug “- you won’t know how to get there.”

Goro ground his teeth. Ren had an unfortunate point. If the prison was full of monsters he’d be fucked if he had to stumble around in the dark, unsure of where to go. He wanted to say no.

“ _Fine_ ,” he spat.

Ren nodded, face struggling to become impassive, but Goro could tell the other boy was trying not to smile.

“Let me know when you’re ready then,” he finally said, turning and gently closing the door behind him.

Goro turned once again to the sink, catching his reflection in the mirror. Pale skin marred by heavy bruising around a badly broken nose. The lightest smattering of freckles, hair hanging limp and dirty over dark, sunken eyes. Scars on arms and knuckles from countless fights, the markings proof he had won. He snarled at the mirror, lips twisting to reveal sharp, discoloured teeth.

He looked as bad as he felt.

When Goro left the bathroom, Ren was sitting at the couch playing with the straps on his backpack. He startled slightly when he noticed Goro standing in the doorway.

“Ready to go?” Ren gestured to the only door Goro hadn’t seen him use. He reached into the bag and pulled out the flashlight, clicking it a few times. “You should probably stay behind me.”

Goro wanted to protest but quickly stopped himself.

“Fine,” he replied. He moved into the reception area, slowly, carefully. Ren watched his movements carefully, but seemed satisfied enough that he immediately took the lead, directing them towards the door and further into the building.

Silent Hill Historical Society was an old building that looked like it had started its life as someone’s home before being renovated and extended into the pseudo museum it was now. Rooms were filled with somewhat kitschy displays of pinned butterflies and old paintings and photographs from prominent people in the town’s history. It would have been normal looking, if most of the town’s history hadn’t involved copious amounts of cult activity. Paintings were dark and grim, depicting scenes of pyramid headed executioners and flayed and tortured prisoners. One particular set of photos focused on a young girl with dark hair simply labeled “ _Mother of God”._

Ren would occasionally point things out that he seemed to find particularly interesting, usually old coins and plaques intricately designed with animals and busts.

As they walked through the rooms, silent and empty as they were, Goro couldn’t shake the feeling of unease he felt as they went deeper into the building.

“Why a prison?”

“Oh.” Ren turned and began walking backwards down the hallway as he addressed Goro’s question. “So this town used to be deep into some cult shit right? The prison was a way of keeping non-believers in line, there’s some rooms down there we’re pretty sure were used for some very messed up torture. After the incident with Alessa, things were pretty much disbanded. Big crackdown on some of the real weirdos involved, most of ‘em just skipped town.”

“Alessa?”

“Oh right.” Ren pointed at a photograph of a young girl and an older women standing stiffly and solemnly. “Alessa was the little girl that got burnt. Her mother claimed she had powers and was going to use her to mother their god. Super fucked up. Anyway, they’re both dead.”

Goro inspected the photo Ren had pointed out closely. The little girl seemed sad, shy. Her mother, while serious and solemn with her hand on her daughter’s shoulder, seemed to possess an almost manic light in her eyes.

“Fun tourist destination.”

“A lot of towns have dirty little secrets, I guess this place just chose to let theirs out. Cautionary, I think. It’s been like this for a while anyway, and a lot of the tourists who come through here don’t think its real.” Ren turned back to the hallway and opened a side door. The room contained an old grand piano, a few faded chairs, a cracked vase full of dead flowers. A curtained window and a single door.

“Regardless of what the cult did, they did come up with some fun locks.” Ren walked over to the piano and very deliberately plinked at the keys, no particular tune or rhythm until an audible _click_ filled the air. The door on the other side of the room swung open slightly, revealing steps that faded into darkness. Goro nodded and clicked on his light, falling into step behind Ren as he began descending the stairs.

Goro descends the stairs slowly, each step an exercise in not jostling his leg any more than he needs to. Ahead of him, Ren takes the stairs just as slowly, occasionally turning as if to offer help but stopping himself at whatever foul expression Goro has on his face in that moment.

The bottom of the stairs is blocked by a heavy iron door, rusted and grimy. Ren pushed it experimentally and it let out a loud shriek as it moved slightly. His face is grim as he begins rifling through his bag, turning to Goro in the process.

“Stay close to me ok? This place is like a maze if you don’t know your way around-“

“ _I get it_.” Goro cut the other boy off with a huff of irritation. “I can handle myself.”

Ren pursed his lips.

“Akechi I’m being serious.” By this point he’d stopped rifling through the bag, although he hadn’t withdrawn his hand. “Please.”

_Akira had been completely silent as Goro revealed his trump card, his expression unreadable behind the mask. As Goro called forth Loki, pouring all his madness and hate in his mind, he thought he could see Akira’s lips move forming a silent ‘please’._

“Ok,” Goro said, turning his head away. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the other boy’s face relax into relief, and he finally withdrew his hand from the bag, shouldering it in the process. Ren held the gun with comfort and ease as he opened the door to the prison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't written anything for this since what, November? I've been plugging away at different stuff using the Notes app on my phone which, let me tell you, super sucks. I go back to uni in a week so I'll maybe get more time to work on this. It's reasonably fleshed out except for one part, just gotta write the damned thing. Anyone who's familiar with SH2 can probably take an educated guess at what happens next but I can neither confirm nor deny since the next chapter is not written

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to send someone from the P5 cast to Silent Hill and I think Goro has enough guilt and trauma to warrant a trip.   
> Sorry about the tense changes. I'm... bad at keeping things consistent and even though I read through my work ten times before I do anything with it, I'm prone to missing things.


End file.
